Author's POV
The last rituals of Ekansh Singh were completed by sunset. The house, once filled with his laughter, now echoed with silence, heavy, suffocating silence. The garlands placed around his photograph still carried the scent of fresh marigolds, a painful reminder that he was now only a memory.
Preeti sat alone in her room, hugging her knees to her chest. The soft pink and white décor around her felt almost mocking—too cheerful for the heartbreak sitting in her chest.
Her eyes drifted toward one of the many framed photos on her desk, and a memory tugged at her heart.
She was twelve, wearing a chocolate-smeared smile as Ekansh had walked in holding an ice cream cup.
"Here, Preeti! Look, I got your favourite chocolate ice cream. Come, let's eat," he had said, sounding more excited than a child.
"You're the best Baba in the whole world!" she had giggled, hugging him.
The memory stabbed her now. She hugged the pillow tighter as tears blurred her vision.
A knock on the door pulled her back.
"Yes... come in," she whispered.
The door opened quietly, and Ansh stepped in without saying a word. His presence changed the air of the room, calmer, steadier, colder.
He silently sat on the sofa, his eyes quietly observing her space. Light pink curtains, white fairy lights around her mirror, soft floral bedding... everything looked like a dream.
A dream she once lived in.
A dream that was now slipping away.
"Why are you here?" Preeti asked finally, her voice barely stronger than a breath.
Ansh looked straight at her. His face was unreadable, firm as always.
"Because of the promise we made to your father," he said.
Preeti's throat tightened. "But... I'm still young. I can't marry at this age."
"I know." He didn't raise his voice; still, his words left no room to escape. "You just have to marry me on paper. Only for safety. You can live your life separately. I will never force anything on you. But this marriage needs to happen as soon as possible. Tomorrow morning, it will take place. It will be simple."
He stood, turned, and left before she could respond.
Preeti stared at the closed door.
Tomorrow her life would change forever.
Her Baba had chosen this man. And for that reason alone... she had no strength left to refuse.
She lay back, drowning again in memories of her father, whispering to him in the quiet darkness.
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The sun rose, but joy didn't. The house looked the same, yet nothing felt familiar anymore.
The wedding held at a small temple, simple, quiet, with only the priest and two witnesses. Preeti wore a pale peach salwar suit. Her eyes were swollen, her lips trembling, her fingers cold despite the warm morning air.
Ansh stood beside her in plain white kurta pajamas. His face held calmness, but inside, even he felt the weight of responsibility pressing on his chest.
"Beta, sit," the priest said softly.
Preeti sat mechanically. Everything around her felt distant... dreamlike... unreal.
"Put your hand forward," the priest instructed.
Her fingers trembled as she lifted her hand.
Ansh's hand met hers warm, steady, grounding.
The priest tied the sacred thread around their wrists.
"With this ritual, the bond is formed."
Preeti felt something break inside her.
"Now the sindoor," the priest added.
Ansh hesitated for a second only a second. Then he lifted the small silver box and gently placed a tiny stroke of vermillion on her forehead. He did it with respect, not ownership.
"It is done," the priest announced.
And just like that... Preeti became Mrs. Preeti Ansh.
No celebrations. No smiles. No blessings.
Just silence.
Just responsibility.
Just a promise.
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After the ceremony, Ansh said calmly, "Pack your things. We're leaving for my place."
Preeti nodded quietly. She returned to her room , the room her father built with love. Every corner carried a memory. The study table where he used to help her with homework. The window where they sat during rains. The cupboard he once filled with birthday dresses.
She touched the edge of her mirror, whispering, "Baba... I'm leaving our home today."
Her tears dripped on the floor as she folded her clothes. She picked up a small teddy her father had bought her and hugged it tightly before placing it in her suitcase.
This house held her entire childhood.
And she was walking away from it.
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Ansh drove in silence. Preeti sat beside him, looking out of the window. Houses, trees, traffic everything blurred behind tears she wasn't letting fall.
After a long pause, Ansh spoke.
"Preeti... you have to make yourself strong to live in this world. I'm with you."
His voice softened slightly. "But even then... you must be strong on your own."
Preeti glanced at him just for a secondthen looked back outside.
She wasn't ready to speak. Not yet.
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They reached Ansh's apartment large, modern, quiet. A servant hurried to open the door.
"Take her to her room," Ansh said.
He walked ahead without checking if she followed.
Preeti followed. She had no other choice.
Ansh stopped in front of a door and opened it.
"This is your room. Come."
Preeti stepped inside.
It was beautiful soft pink and white, fairy lights, a big window, gentle décor. Almost like her own room... almost. But not quite.
You can decorate a place with colours.
But you can't paint memories.
"You can change and rest," Ansh said. "Your dinner will be served here."
He closed the door behind him.
Preeti took a slow, shaky breath and went to the washroom. After a warm shower, she slipped into comfortable pajamas and went straight to bed. Exhaustion, emotional and physical pulled her into sleep.
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Later, the servant knocked on her door with a dinner tray.
"Mam? Dinner?"
No reply.
"Ma'am...?" he repeated nervously.
Nothing.
Afraid he failed his duty, he hurried to Ansh.
"S-sir... Ma'am isn't replying. I knocked, but..."
Ansh didn't scold him.
He simply walked to her room, knocked once.
"Preeti?"
Silence.
He opened the door it was unlocked.
She was curled on the bed, still wearing damp hair, her lashes wet from crying. She looked fragile, almost childlike.
Ansh walked in quietly, adjusted her blanket so she wouldn't feel cold, and stepped back.
"Take the dinner back," he told the servant.
He closed the door gently.
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Preeti's POV
Days passed.
Slowly.
Painfully.
But slowly, I learned how to breathe again. Not fully... but enough to survive each day.
I still cried at night. I still touched my father's photo every morning. I still whispered
"goodnight, Baba," before sleeping.
But I wasn't collapsing anymore.
Maybe grief doesn't go away.
Maybe it just... changes shape.
This house didn't feel like home. But it wasn't suffocating anymore. Ansh didn't disturb me. He stayed out of my way. He kept his promise.
I didn't know what our future was.
I wasn't ready to think about it.
I was only trying to live.
One moment at a time.
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Ansh's POV
Preeti wasn't a woman.
She was a child forced into adulthood overnight.
I watched her from a distance quietly, carefully. I didn't step into her space. I didn't ask questions. I didn't burden her with responsibilities she wasn't ready for.
Every day I saw her trying to survive. Trying to stay strong even when her eyes told the truth.
Ekansh's last words still echoed in my mind.
"Protect her... after me."
And I would.
Not as a husband.
Not as an owner.
But as the guardian destiny had tied to her.
I didn't know when she would heal.
But I knew one thing I would stand beside her until she did.
Even if she never looked at me the way a wife looks at her husband.
A promise was a promise.
And I never broke promises.
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